


Working on a case

by RinkaRanka



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Abduction, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asphyxiation, Blood and Injury, Bottom Bruce, Bottom Bruce Wayne, Damsels in Distress, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Face-Fucking, First Meetings, Happy Ending, Humiliation, Identity Porn, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multiple Orgasms, My First AO3 Post, My First Smut, My First Work in This Fandom, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Porn With Plot, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Assault, Smut, Top Clark Kent, Torture, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-01-31 21:03:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18599371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RinkaRanka/pseuds/RinkaRanka
Summary: Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent are working on their respective cases.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well it's my first work on english AND my first smut, so yeah I'm more then a little shy. Hope you will enjoy it. :) If you find any mistake, please tell me about it.

He was working on this case for months. It was frustrating him to no end, especially since people's lifes were in danger and he wasn't even a damn step closer to solution. Every few weeks he keeps finding a new body, each gruesomely mutilated, with multitude of stabs and burns, and with obvious marks of brutal rape, though never once did he find any genetic material or fingerprints of murderer. Whoever did it had disgustingly perverted psyche and very high intellect. All bodies were those of cheap male whores whose loss no one would notice for a few days, which was enough time for killer to do what he intended to and dispose of corpse in the most remote area of the city from the place where he took his prey. No media outlet in city took notice of what was happening with poor errant souls, instead focusing all their interest on the elite of Gotham. Police was blind to people's misery since no cheap prostitute could give them enough money to request their protection. As always, Gothamites' only hope was Batman.  
  
Who couldn't even start to guess who is the killer.  
  
Bruce hadn't slept for nearly two days, since his mind just won't stop returning to his current problem. Through the last two weeks he developed a headache and a near obsession with this case. He was ready to go to extremes to solve it, he just couldn't bear sight of another one body. Pictures from the crime scenes pursued him all the time, their bloody faces and ripped out guts flashing through his mind when he took his breakfast, their mingled limbs flickered in front of his eyes while he was sitting in his office and their foul smell came to him in the middle of a fundraiser. The more time passed, the harder it was to force himself eat. Today he couldn't swallow anything at all. He had to stop this madness.  
  
It was time to start plan B.  
  
***  
  
Bruce was standing in one of poorly lit streets in Narrows, where most of the victims were working. He wore cheap translucent red shirt and skin-tight grey jeans. His four top buttons were undone and opened sight on his muscular pale chest. His trousers accented his long legs and delicate hips. His disheveled black hair, slightly parted pink lips and half-lided blue eyes promised night full of pleasure.  
  
He had batarangs in soles of his boots.  
  
The plan was to take in every willing customer, determine if it was his target, and if not then he would slip away before anything happened. Since he came back to Gotham only a little bit over a year ago and started to participate in fundraisers and galas only a month ago he wasn't in danger of being recognized yet.  
  
Easy.  
  
It was already a week since he started to implement this plan. He have had about sixteen clients, but none of them were the killer.  
  
It was frustrating.  
  
Still better then not doing anything at all.  
  
Immersed in his thoughts, he didn't notice a man in ugly suit and with thick glasses come near him, so he was a bit startled when a big heavy hand was laid on his lean shoulder.  
  
The man was taller then him, which in itself was quite a challenge. He had black hair with unruly curl on his forehead and sapphire blue eyes, which took in his appereance with obvious appreciation. His arms was thick with muscles, and his frame emanated strength.  
  
From all of his clients this one looked the most inconspicuous and strong enough to easily overpower adult male.  
  
"So, how much will it take to have you for a night?" the man asked with a smirk.  
  
***  
  
He was working on this case for months. It was frustrating him to no end, especially since people's lifes were in danger and he wasn't even a damn step closer to solution. Every few weeks a body will be found somewhere in USA. All victims seem to be muscular gay or bi males and also all of them were last seen in red light districts. All had their own semen on their bodies and also hickeys and bruises all over their skin. Each one was strangled with rope. No teeth marks or fingerprints or anything that could lead to the killer's identity.  
  
However, there was a few witnesses.  
  
No one said anything very helpful. Just that they had seen the victim go out of the club or bar or anywhere else with a beautiful male on their arm. Some claimed that the male's hair was red, some said it was blue. Most said it was jet black. And absolutely everyone said he was ridiculously handsome, even though no one could describe his face. All said that they felt something like a pull toward him.  
  
Last victim was from Gotham.  
  
Clark didn't like Gotham all that much. There was tons of lead in buildings, obscuring his vision, and clouds that almost never let a sunshine through. The smell was foul, and streets were littered.  
  
Although there was something that Clark had been interested in for quite some time.  
  
Batman.  
  
He didn't know if it was just some urban legend or if it was real. He hoped for the latter. The probability of meeting someone like him, someone with powers, someone unhuman was thrilling.  
  
But it was already third day since he started exploring the city, and never once did he met him. His hope was deflating rapidly.  
  
Whatever. He still had a killer to catch.  
  
***  
  
Clark was walking through Narrows for the last two hours. He wore one of his ugly ill-fitting costumes and thick glasses, though he didn't slouch as he would usualy do in his civilian persona, showing off his muscles.  
  
He was looking for someone who was handsome and could easily strangle a full grown man. He had yet to meet someone who would pass in at least one of the categories.  
  
He let out a heavy sigh.  
  
_Maybe ot was time to head ho-_  
  
His thoughts were abruptly cut off as his eyes landed on _him_.  
  
_He_ was breathtakingly beautifull. Tall, though not as tall as Clark, dark and handsome. He had shiny black hair and icy blue eyes. His body was lean, and quick scan with his x-ray vision showed that under well fitting clothes he had dozens of scars.  
  
And something like blades in the soles of his shoes.  
  
He could strangle someone with his thighs alone.  
  
Clark was almost sure he was the one. He had only to prove it. Catch him in action. And, since Clark was invulnerable anyway...  
  
With a few confident strides he approached the suspect. Beauty's shoulder fitted perfectly against his hand. Tight muscles felt smooth under translucent clothes.  
  
Intense blue eyes took in his form with unreadable emotion in their depths.  
  
Never before had Clark said something as vulgar as this, but it wasn't all that hard with this strange fire, that start within him.  
  
"So, how much will it take to have you for a night?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut in the next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> here comes the smut. This chapter is like 99% smut and in the end just a tiny bit of plot. Also, it's VERY kinky. Check the tags before reading. I warned you.

Bruce - _Brian_ \- was roughly thrown on top of creaky bed in the little suit of old low-rate hotel. He quickly worked open pristine white dress shirt of the larger man, blazer long forgotten near the door. Underneath the cloth he found expected bulging pecs and hard abs of an ancient greek statue. It was difficult to denay his attraction to the man and he wasn't feeling like it, so he didn't stop himself from running his hands up and down well defind torso.  
  
Clark - _Kal_ \- shivered at the touch. The closer they came to his hotel, the harder it was to resist his animalistic urge to just pin the man to the nearest wall and deal with his growing appreciation of him, so now, when they was finally in the privacy of his room he wasn't prone to deny himself much longer. He leaned in for a hungry kiss, moving away only to let the man breathe and then returning to his rapidly reddening lips. His right hand found its way to the taut ass, kneading and squeezing womanly buttocks.  
  
He fumbled with his left hand with the buttons on the red shirt, but they did not cease to slip out of his clumsy fingers, so, having lost composure, he simply tore the shirt apart, exposing the expenses of marble-white skin. When he saw this silken skin and silvers of scars he couldn't stop himself from running a toungue along one of thin white lines from collarbones and down to his right nipple, where he started to nip it none too gently until the bud was hard and perky.  
  
Brian whimpered at the sensation, and, embarrassed at the sound he made, covered his mouth with hand, trying to stop more sounds from spilling. But, thanks to Clark's superhearing, he didn't miss it, and once he heard the delicious sound, he became determind to rip out even more beautiful sounds. With this thought in mind he switched to the left nipple, trying his hardest to make him moan, simultaneously pulling skinny jeans off. After he was satisfied with the sight of tortured flesh, he dragged his lips and teeth lower, stopping briefly to lap at cute navel. When he reached Braian's crotch, he looked up with mischievous smile, and avoided half-hard member altogether, instead biting roughly at delicate skin of inner tights. His own cock was aching and leaking, and when another hard bite elicited a breathy moan, it took all his will to not just rip off his trousers and thrust in the tight pink hole.  
  
With primal growl he stood up and pried Brian's palm off of his mouth. He probbed at plump swollen lips with three thingers and in husky commanding voice ordered "Suck", while with his other hand he worked his fly open and palmed at his own length.  
  
Bruce complied. He let three digits in and sucked in earnest, fondling them with his tongue and hollowing his cheeks.  
  
He tried to fist his aching member, but before he could the fingers left his mouth and his arms were snatched and held with both hands above his head. Then Kal moved his wrists so he could hold them with one palm. Kal sat on top of his chest and with free hand lined up his very big cock with Bruce's lips, nudgind them open with the head. Understanding silent command, he opened his mouth and took in as much as he could, what was, actually, less then half. He just started to suck at it when Kal's free hand landed on the back of his neck, fisted his short hair, and started to pull him down the enormous shaft. He gagged and chocked, and strained his arms agains unyielding hold, but the man was unrelenting, pushing himself down Bruce's throat. He stopped once he got three-quarters of the cock down, and then pulled out, letting the smaller man take a breath, and then slowly pushing in again. In a few slow strokes he had all of it inside his mouth, his nose touching smooth skin of the other man's pubis. Kal holded him there for a moment, not letting him move his head and savouring the moment, and then set a steady pace, barely giving Bruce time to breath between thrusts.  
  
The look of the other man was a sight to behold. Clark couldn't look away even if he wanted. Red swollen lips were stretched wide around his considerable girth, from the corners and down the chin ran saliva, cheeks were red and glistening with tears and eyes, the wonderfull icy blue eyes, were misty and swallowed in black of the pupil, long black eyelashes framing them.  
  
He started to move faster, relentlessly hitting the back of the throat and barely keeping himself from snapping the other's neck in the frenzy of approaching climax. When he sensed he was almost there, he used his free hand to asphyxiate the man under him, monitoring him with his supersenses to not hurt him. In a few quick pushes he came down Brian's throat, all the while pressing on his neck, and then stayed buried deep inside for a while longer before the other's need for air became indispensable. Only then he pulled out.  
  
While Brian coughed in an attempt to return to normal breathing, Clark searched in his suitcase for a bottle of lotion. It wasn't lube, but would do. After he had found it, he returned to Braian, who rubbed at his neck with a wince. No doubt tomorrow he will have a bruise there.  
  
"On your hands and knees" he ordered in the same commanding tone.  
  
Brian slowly moved in position, presenting to Clark his firm butt and pink hole. Without much delay Clark lubed his fingers. He started teasingly massaging the puckered entrance all the while kissing and biting soft rear. He has very much patience, and he will wait until-  
  
"P-please, K-ah!-Kal, please."  
  
That's better.  
  
Just as slowly he pushed one finger in and without letting Brian get used to a sensation started to pump it, withdrawing to the tip and sliding fully back, pressing on the inner walls in search for prostate.  
  
After a while he heard an absolutely pornographic moan. It got him hard almost instantly. With lust clouded mind he pushed another two fingers in and started rubbing his three digits mercilessly against that sweet spot, putting very much pressure on it. It earned him a flood of lecherous sounds, and Brian started to thrust back, fucking himself diligently on Clark's fingers.  
  
"You like it, huh. You should look at yourself, you taking it so good."  
  
The show was fascinating. The way Brian's back was covered in sweat, the way he was screwing himself on Clark's wide hand, the way he was so obviously enjoying it. He wanted him to come like this, just from his fingers.  
  
But it doesn't mean he will make it easy for him.  
  
When he sensed with his enhanced perception, that the smaller man was close, he took his dick in hand and squeezed at the base not letting him come.  
  
Bruce screamed. He was fucked with three fingers up his ass, always pushing at all the right spots, he was so, so close, and this man, this fucking bastard wouldn't let him. Oh, but he wanted it so much, he was ready to do _anything_ -  
  
"Ah, aah, K-kal, Kal, please." He pleaded breathlessly.  
  
"Sorry, what did you just say?"  
  
"Please, ah, Ah! Pl-please, Kal"  
  
"I Don't Hear You" The taller man replied in singsong voice.  
  
"Please! Pleasepleaseplease! Oh, Kal, K-Ah!-kal, oh fuck, oh fuck, _please_!" He all but screamed. He was sure that any moment now he will just pass out.  
  
"Please what, dear?" Came cruel question, while the ruthless fingers started to pump in and out of him at almost humanly impossible speed, hitting his prostate over and over.  
  
"Let me come! Ooh, oh fuck, pleaseplease let me come, letmecome, oh, Kal, oh fuck, fuck, please, please I beg you, oh, ah! Aaaaah-" Kal finally unclenched his hand, and Bruce came with a scream and a full body shudder, squeezing hard with his inner muscles on fingers, that didn't stop thrusting in and if anything seemed even more eager to fuck him. When he stopped coming Kal withdrew his fingers.  
  
Only to replace them with his slicked cock.  
  
"N-no, wait, Kal, I, I can't, Kal, no-"  
  
Clark was harder then ever before, his private show pushing his resolve to limits. He couldn't wait any longer even if he wanted to. Never before was he so careless about his partner's wellbeing, never had he had this bestial want to just take and take and take, unless there was nothing left to give.  
  
Still, he managed to control himself enough to set a slow pace for the sake of the other man, even if in his efforts he was leaving hanprint bruises on his hips. He wasn't going all in right away, opting for a gradual deepening.  
  
The new stuffing in his abused hole made Bruce shake and gasp with painful overstimulation. But despite pain, he felt himself slowly hardening again. After a few minutes of the slow grinding of enormous shaft, Kal finally bottomed out. The sensation of this huge dick all the way inside of him made him moan in pleasure.  
  
"You're really just a cock slut, aren't you?" Came dark satisfied chuckle from behind him and sudenly an arm wrapped him, and he was lifted and pressed against steel-hard muscles of Kal's chest. The new angle brought a shock of pleasure and he groaned.  
  
"Just look at this." His usually flat stomach was bulging from the large cock inside of him. The arm hugging him to the man slid down to the bulge and pressed. Kal started moving shallowly in and out, rubbing his own cock right through Bruce's belly. "Oh, you love it, don't you? The way I just use you as I want, not giving a fuck about your pleasure?". Bruce shaked his head in denial, but sounds he couldn't stop making spoke for him. "Don't even try lying to me. I can see how much you love getting fucked. Is it why you chose to be a whore?"  
  
Clark started to move faster and harder in the moaning man, one of his hands still pressing on his belly, and the other squeezing at the base of his cock just like before. He didn't know why, but he had to make sure, that this man will remember this night for a very long time, if not forever. He will make him.  
  
He moved a little to find a better angle while keeping a steady pace. After a few tries he found the position in which he would be hitting stright in the prostate with every stroke. He set a brutal pace, and continued to whisper profanities in Brian's ear, kissing and biting at his earlobe and neck now and then.  
  
Bruce was getting close again, the pain and pleasure mixing within him in an explosion of sensations. He desperatly tried to pry the hand from his dick, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't move it at all.  
  
Kal tutted from behind in disapproval and started to move at even faster, unhuman pace.  
  
Clark was close himself, but he couldn't come, he wanted, no, he _needed_ to know-  
  
"Tell me, had anyone made you feel so good before? Had anyone taken you like that? Tell me, who is your best lover?"  
  
"Y-aah!-you!" Came breathless reply.  
  
"Louder!" He groweled.  
  
"You, Kal, oh god, ah, you! Oh Kal, oh god, please, please-"  
  
At that Clark unclasped his hand and came deep inside the other man, shuddering through his most intense orgasm ever.  
  
When he came to his senses he found out they both were lying on the bed, Brian peacefully asleep.  
  
***  
  
Half an hour later when Clark left the shower, he decided to inspect this strange blades he saw in the soles of Brian's shoes. He took one boot in hand and x-rayed it.  
  
The blade was something like a projectile with a strange form. It almost looked like-  
  
No.  
  
_No way._  
  
Clark glanced at muscular scarred body. He took in stab marks and scars from bullets. Calloused hands. Bones with traces of fractures.  
  
Then he glanced back at the blade.  
  
Did he?-  
  
But it's-  
  
But-  
  
_Did he really just fucked the Batman?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a short chapter.

He gasped awake from another one of his usual nightmares. He was shaking all over. But, this time there was delightful heat engulfing him. His hazy from sleep mind wouldn't comprehend what it was just yet, and ge simply relaxed in it, slowly steading his heartbeat and breathing.  
  
Ten minutes he was finally awake enough to start forming thoughts. Slowly blinking his eyes open, he turned to see from where the warmth was coming.  
  
His eyes widened in shock.  
  
He was lying on his side in a cheap little hotel room, golden rays of sunrise peeking in between jalousies. But what startled him was wide muscular arm tightly hugging him from behind. He could feel other's warm breathing tickling his neck, soft lips pressed against an old scar on his shoulder.  
  
Last night's events flashed before his mind's eye, making him blush from shame harder them ever. He was so, so mad at himself, he will have to punish himself somehow for such a terrble slip. Not only he behaved as some bitch in heat, he could have been murdered by the killer!  
  
..what, by the way, he wasn't.  
  
Maybe he was wrong in his assessment of Kal after all.  
  
But as paranoid as he always was, he wasn't convinced just yet. So, carefully extracting himself from sweltering hug, he silently walked to Kal's suitcase, briefly noticing that despite his nightly activities he was clean, and sneakly started inspecting contents of the bag, searching for anything incriminating. After a thourough rummage his only somewhat valuable finding was a reporter's badge with Kal - _Clark's_ \- photo and real name.  
  
Mentally making a note to look in this Clark character more closely later, he decided that there wasn't anything to indicate that he was the killer, even though Bruce still didn't dismissed the possibillity.  
  
Just as silently he washed and dressed, trying his best to not look at the bed and fighting his usual self-deprecating thoughts. Only before exiting did he glanced at the man's peacefull sleeping face. He didn't want him to be the killer, even though he knew that his wishes didn't matter in such cases.  
  
Bruce left.  
  
***  
  
Clark woke up well past noon. Last night, after his revelation about his partner, he tended to exhausted - _Brian?_ \- and tried to search for some kind of id, since he was pretty sure that the man lied about his name - not that he blamed him, as he did the same, - and after he didn't found anything decided to ask him in the morning, hoping against hope that Batman will stay.  
  
He did not.  
  
Clark opened his eyes to find his bed empty, red shirt and jeans gone, the only reminder of Brian's presence is his messed up bag.  
  
To say that he was dissapointed would be a huge understatment.  
  
Even if Brian was not real Batman - though why would he have batarangs with him otherwise? - Clark still would very much like to get to know him better. It sounded ridiculous even to his own ears, but he felt something toward the man, was intrigued by his intelligent gaze, his scar littered body, his mesmerising eyes.  
  
But there was nothing left of him.  
  
Perhaps he from the very beginning was opting for a single night stand. Perhaps Clark was just a fool. Noone in their's right mind would fall in love after a simple fuck. Even if it was the best sex in their's life.  
  
When he left his suit a few hours later, he used all his will to not start searching for Brian with his enhanced senses. If he didn't want this night to mean anything, then Clark won't force him on anything.  
  
He changed in a dark alley where he hided his uniform and took off towards Metropolis. He still had a day job to maintain.  
  
Perry gonna be furious.  
  
***  
  
When Bruce had left the hotel Gotham's night life was just starting to wind out, heavily intoxicated people stumbling down misty streets and alleys going back home.  
  
Bruce breathed in the chilly air, thick fog not letting him see farther than ten feet. He walked slowly through Narrows, nearing the Crime alley, and was absorbed in his sad memories, enjoying the solitude of the sleeping city as he could be vulnerable without anyone noticing.  
  
That was when he heared a muffled in fog scream in one of the nearest alleys, where murky haze was even denser.  
  
He rushed to the source of the sound. He saw the back of the man who let out the howl only when he was hand length away. The pale blond was shaking, looking in the mist where the other end of an alley was hiding, not aknowledging Bruce's presense.  
  
"Um, sir? Are you alright?" Bruce asked in gentle voice, but didn't get an answer. In an attempt to bring man's attention to him and sooth him he laid his palm on the blond's strong shoulder.  
  
Only to be swiftly grabbed by wrist and pricked in his neck so fast, that in his sleep-deprived and exhausted condition he couldn't react and stop it.  
  
Last he had seen before he blacked out were the all too familiar place where he kneeled in red not long enough ago, and the face, the horrifying face with terrible scars all over it.  
  
_He is the one._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is confused by the time line, 3 part goes after the 1st and only then goes 2.
> 
> Oh my sweet sweet Bruce, why do I have to torture you.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to write some smut. What the hell happened?! How did it became so dark?! I have absolutely no idea.
> 
> !!!Warning!!!: there is torture, gore, non-consensual drug use, sexual abuse, injuries. It's pretty dark, yeah. (But I promise, there will be happy ending!)

Bruce was woken up by a sharp pain in his left ankle. He moaned from pain, barely opening his heavy lids. Everything blurred in and out of focus and the only thing he knew for sure is that he was sitting on cold concrete with his hand bound high above his head. He couldn't tell how much time has passed or even recall what exactly led to this strange position. He felt drunk, with his head pounding and his thoughts confused, his hands numb from the lack of blood flow, his body shivering from piercing coldand, most importantly, his left ankle throbed with overwhelming excruciating pain.  
  
"Well, well, well, is my littl' new doll awake? Hello, sweetie. How do ya like yar new livin' place? Though s'not like ya will be stayin' here for long..."  
  
Bruce tried to comprehend the words, but while he heard it just fine, he couldn't quite grasp the meaning behind them. Why would anyone call him "sweetie"? And what did he mean by "living place"? What about manor? What about Alfred?  
  
He frowned at his thoughts. Does Alfred know where he is? How long had it been since he had last seen the british man? He has probably worried himself sick. He should return home.  
  
He pulled at his arms, but hissed as the movement chafed his sore wrists.  
  
"Hey there, why such a face? Wher' did my sweet doll go? Oh, maybe ya need another dose, right? Just a sec, sweetheart. Her' it is. Now be a good pet, don't move this pretty stupid head of yars."  
  
A hand grabed his hairs, pulling painfully at the roots, moving it so his neck was straining and his pulse exposed. Something pricked the sensitive skin there.  
  
His head that just started to clear up was messed up once again. The world became a sea of screaming colors, little noise in his ears became deafening and the pain from his leg seemed to wash over all of his body, ripping a scream out of his throat. He thrashed, trying to bring his hands down to do something, anything at all, but when he understood that he couldn't, the rising within him primal fear became a full-blown panic. He started to uncontrolably pull and tug at the restrains. Whoever was beside him didn't like it.  
  
Not at all.  
  
The hard punch in his over sensitive stomach efficiently made him stop. A hand squeezed hardly his neck and hit him in the wall. For a moment he had seen stars.  
  
"Now littl' doll, daddy doesn' like badly behavin' toys. I admit I'm at fault her' since I seem to jumble yar medicine, but it still not an excuse. Ya'r her' for nice playin' and all, it's not my concern if ya can't make yarself behave properly."  
  
He saw the world going black on edges, hearing going off and on. He needed air, he needed it _right now_.  
  
The hand had losen its grip and he started greedily gulping lungfulls. Thumb of the hand gently stroked a purple bruise that already was there.  
  
"Hmm, I didn't noticed this one before... Looks like... Heh, ya'r quite a dirty doll, ain't ya? Ya like things rough, huh? Good. Very good. Ya gonna like what I prepared for ya, littl' toy."  
  
The voice lauhged darkly, and a blurr moved out of his vision. There was some kind of sound, but he was just too out of it. The only thing he could do is just to sit there, with his hands above his head, his vision swimming and his head hanging low, his ankle still throbbing. He was too exhausted to do anything about it. He couldn't even cry.  
  
The moving spot came back, and his still bound hands were lowered, then something hauled him up, making him stand on his feet.  
  
He almost blacked out from pain in his leg, mouth open in silent scream, eyes wide. Something pulled him forward, and he being in the state of his just falled face first on the ground. Warm and sticky seeped from his lips, metalic taste in his mouth.  
  
"Oh come on, don' make me angry, doll."  
  
He was in so much pain he couldn't move at all.  
  
"Doll."  
  
Not even a muscle.  
  
"Stand. Right now. Or I'm gonna be real mad."  
  
Not even his eyelids.  
  
"That's it, doll. God knows I didn't want this. Don't blame me now." Came a growl.  
  
Bruce feeled something cold and hard touching his skin on the nape. Next moment he felt a cool air hit his bare back and cloth of his shirt fell near. The voice's breath hitched, and then he whisteled, full with sudden mirth.  
  
"Oh my, doll, ya was makin me angry on purpose, huh? Just look at this back of yars! 'S like I already played with my knives, and I hadn't even done anythin' yet! I hadn't... but.. there' so much..." The voice was full of rage now. "Ya fuckin' whore!" A long but shallow slash of knife came upon Bruce's back. "How much people ya let play with ya?! Ya'r usin me ain't ya?! Ya just wanted me play with ya, right?!" Other wounds were rapidly apearing on gasping and screaming Bruce, coloring him in red. Rage in the voice morphed into something much, much darker. "I gonna make sure I will be the last one to play with ya, doll. I will play with ya nice an' slow, until ya'r red all over. Ya gonna enjoy it so much. I promise, no one before played with ya like this, littl' toy. Mine sweet doll. Mine."  
  
Something wet and warm and alive touched the blood pulling on his back, and went up to gather as much of the liquid as it could.  
  
Bloodloss made his head somewhat clearer. Bruce finally understood where he was. It was some kind of basement, made fully of concrete, which was stained with brown spots of dried blood. There was a big steel table on the other side of the room, chains and ropes attached to it.  
  
Bruce felt an urge to retch when he realised that someone - _the blond_ his memory supplied - was liking blood off his body. He tried to scramble away but when he moved his left leg he was promptly reminded of the pain - a fracture, no less, - there.  
  
"Oh my doll, ya'r so delicious. I wanna devour ya righg now" A heavy hand landed on his rear.  
  
God help him.  
  
***  
  
Clark was trying his hardest to make some work done, but it was hard when his eidetic memory wouldn't stop bringig up the night with Bri- _Batman_ in vivid details. It was absolutely amazing that he manged to do something at all with the constant boner that threatened to rip through his trousers.  
  
A hand waved before his eyes once, and when the owner didn't get any reaction out of him, it shaked him. Then shaked him harder.  
  
Only when something landed in his face did he snap out of his reverie.  
  
"Wha-"  
  
"Kent fucking Clark, what da hell is wrong with you?" Lois snapped.  
  
"What do you m-"  
  
"Oh come on, don't give me that shit. You were out of this world for a three days. I've just been calling your name for like ten minutes! Are you okay?" At the last words the anger was replaced with genuine worry.  
  
Clark blushed at the implications of her words.  
  
"I- I'm sorry, Lo, I'm just- it's nothing, really, I'm fi-"  
  
"Who is he?"  
  
"W-what?"  
  
"Who is this guy that you can't stop thinking about?"  
  
"How did you-"  
  
"Oh Clark, please. You wear your heart on your sleeve." She smirked knowingly. Damn her and how she knows him as a back of her hand. "Well?"  
  
"I- well- it's kinda silly, and-" He was cutted off by a sudden commotion nearby.  
  
"Can you assholes keep fucking quiet?!" Lois snapped at their collegues.  
  
"Hush, Lane! Look!"  
  
Clark looked where everyone else was looking, and felt himself grinning like an idiot. Not that he cared.  
  
There was a photo of _him_ in a nice, expensive suit, his smile easy, his ebony hair slicked back, and his eyes, this mesmorizing blue just as intense as he remembered them.  
  
He tuned on his hearing to listen to the news. The grin left his face.  
  
"...Mr. Wayne's butler states, that Bruce tended to not come home, but he always warned beforehand. As it is Bruce Wayne last was seen five days ago at his manor. Police starts searching, Comissio..."  
  
No.

No way.  
  
Batman.  
  
_Bruce_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, this one is the last chapter.
> 
> Sorry for lateness, I had problems with internet.
> 
> Btw tomorow I will post another piiece of smut (this time without plot) hope yoy will like it.

__He was hovering over Gotham, focusing his enhanced hearing to pick out one specific hearbeat.  
  
Please, be alive.  
  
Please.  
  
_Please_.  
  
A short, weak sound came as a godsend. It was enough.  
  
Clark came barreling through walls after walls in the basement of long-abandoned building in old industrial area. It was dark, and cold, and dirty. The foul smell hit his super smell hard. Adjusting his vision to the lack of light he scanned the room for a human.  
  
_Here_.  
  
A - the - man's body was lying on big steel table, with hands and anklres bounded to the table-leg. Bruce was covered in dried blood, with fresh cuts and bruises all over his body. X-ray vision made it clear that he also had fractured ribs, concussion and broken ankle. There was traces of drugs in his system and he was very malnourished.  
  
He was barely breathing.  
  
Oh Bruce.  
  
Clark came near him, starting to undo shackles carefully to not disturb his sore limbs. He wanted to cry. He wanted to hug the man close to his chest and comb his hair and assure him that everything was over. He wanted to rip the culprit apart.  
  
Bruce cracked open his eyes. When he saw Clark's face his eyes opened wide with fear and them.  
  
"You shouldn't be here" came barely audible whisper. Bruce tried to move his head to look around. Thrn he turned back to look pleadingly in Clark's eyes. "Go. Please, go, right now. You will get hurt. Hurry!" It seems that in his terrible state Bruce didn't notice Superman's attire and thought that Clark was here as civilian.  
  
He tried to save him even now. Clark's heart is bleeding.  
  
A man ran into the room with a knife and gun in his hands. He was pale blond, with a terrible scars on his face and neck. He was shirtless and his arms was covered in yellow rubber gloves spoted with blood.  
  
Clark saw red.  
  
***  
  
Bruce woke up to the blindingly white light. His head wasn't pounding as bad as it was, and he felt something fluffy around him. He wasn't cold anymore too.   
  
A few moments later he could focus his vision enough to male out the room he was in. He wad in a hospital, with lots of different wires attached to his body and an IV in his arm.  
  
In one of the walls there was a winfow looking out in the corridor. There he saw Cla- _Superman_ \- talking with a doctor. A moment later Superman-Clark-Kal looked right at him and their blue gazes locked for a long minute. So much was said in this minute with their eyes. Clark knew he was Batman. Bruce knew he was Superman. They knew they was Brian and Kal. Bruce and Clark.  
  
Was it fate?  
  
Clark entered the room. He was silent, but there was no need for words anyway. He sat on the nearby chair and took one of Bruce's hands in his own, and with other he sroked Bruce's cheek, never breaking eye contact. There was so much fondness and warm in his gaze, that Bruce felt like drowning.  
  
He didn't it at all.  
  
***  
  
He was visiting him everyday of his stay in hospital.  
  
They was talking about everything and nothing. By the end of his recuperation he was almost sad that he would have to return to the manor as he didn't think Clark would go there just to talk with him. He probably was doing it now just out of guilt or pity.  
  
Who would be intrested in hin anyway?  
  
It wasn't like he had wrong idea of himself.  
  
He is a hard person.  
  
A week from getting back in Manor someone ringed the door. They didn't expect anyone, so it was a bit of surprise. Probably another one greedy reporter hoping to catch him off guard. Alfred was out for groceries shopping, so he had to open the door himself.  
  
He let out a sigh and getted ready for emotianal assaualt.  
  
He still wasn't ready for a bunch of roses shoved in his face.  
  
Or for sapphire blue eyes boring in his with something unreadable in them.  
  
Or to be asked out on a date.  
  
Not that he minded.

**Author's Note:**

> All cudos and comments are highly appreciated!


End file.
